


Uharam

by sra_danvers



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Essentially Dwaggins, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not really much Bagginshield ANGST, Size Kink, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, porn sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sra_danvers/pseuds/sra_danvers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin grants Dwalin the <i>Uharam</i> —the greatest honour a King can grant, a night in the company of the royal lover— as a reward for saving his life.  Sadly, Bilbo doesn't know he's merely a lover for Thorin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torino10154](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/gifts).



> Some smut for the [Porn Sunday](http://torino10154.insanejournal.com/887452.html). Thanks [Torino ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/pseuds/torino10154)for your encouragement. Sorry it's not in time, and not Snarry either, but soon... ^^
> 
> Thanks to [Salvia_G](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvia_G/pseuds/Salvia_G) for her help with the plot and the Beta, and everything, really. This is readable just thanks to you. Sorry for bother you, you're so patient. Like a devoted reader of your stories, I hope I didn't bother much of your "writing time" ^^
> 
> English is not my mother language, sorry for the bad use...

Lost in despair, the hobbit cried bitterly. He had been so happy, before the Company had arrived at Rivendell. But then the sweet dream of being in Thorin's arms had become a nightmare.

Bilbo had been ecstatic to see Rivendell. He had hoped that, once in a secluded room, their romance would progress from such secret kisses and nocturnal touches on their bedrolls as they had been sharing. Their coupling was good enough, even though Bilbo would have wanted a more gentle passion. But the hobbit had attributed the forceful nature of Thorin’s touches to the differences between dwarves and hobbits.

Just after their lovemaking —or what Bilbo thought had been lovemaking—, Thorin Oakenshield had thanked him for his devotion. Then the dwarf had sent him to pleasure Dwalin. It was a King’s privilege to share the royal paramour, a special boon for to honour his guard, who had fought three trolls with him. Thorin spoke of it majestically, but Bilbo just heard a list of disconnected words: _Royal duty, pride, custom, debt, **Uharam**_.

The hobbit’s dignity was so wounded he didn’t explain his thoughts on the matter. After getting dressed with unsteady hands, he just nodded and left.

Bilbo had thought what he had with the dwarf King was a romance.

Oh, he’d never been so wrong in all his life. Now Bilbo was crying in a dark enclosed balcony, blaming his own naiveté for his hurt and shame.

The hobbit had two choices. He could ask Gandalf for advice on avoiding the situation in the name of his ignorance of dwarves’ customs. The wizard would understand his hobbity perspective of love. Or he could utterly avoid shame and humiliation, seeking Lord Elrond’s shelter. After all, the elf had offered him asylum that day.

None of these paths offered Bilbo relief; his tears continued to fall, wetting his cheeks. What a fool he had been, thinking that he had enamoured a king. He was nothing but a whore, a royal courtesan not better than a common Bree whore. Bilbo sniffled loud, drying his face with his sleeve. Then he stopped his sobs, shocked by the incongruous idea of needing a handkerchief. Not the first time Bilbo had needed one, in that adventure. And the idea made him laugh hysterically.

After calming down, Bilbo thought of another choice. He knitted his brows and pouted. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was a burglar now, a burglar who was on an adventure. Maybe he was not fit for Prince Consort, but he was a king’s lover, thank you very much. And if he was going to become a loose hobbit, he was going to be a good one and enjoy the ride.

While he walked towards Dwalin’s room, Bilbo thought about the massive dwarf. Dwalin had been nothing but kind to him, except maybe that first time at Bag End when he had eaten his supper. Bilbo clearly remembered all the times the dwarf had helped him to get onto the pony or to dismount from it. Dwalin also was, along with Balin and Bofur, one of the members of the Company closest to the hobbit. And Bilbo couldn’t deny he felt especially safe around that enormous warrior.

At last, Bilbo was in front of Dwalin’s door. Just then all his courage left him. Bilbo wondered what, in the name of Yavanna was a Baggins doing in the Last Homely House, looking for a second lover on a night when he hadn’t even shared his bed for a long time. But before he could turn around, the door opened.

Dwalin was about to leave but he seemed to change his mind when he saw the hobbit. He smiled widely and let him in, putting his big hand on the hobbit’s shoulder after closing the door.

“I’m glad you’re here, burglar,” he said, winking. “I was about to go looking for you. Are you all right?” Dwalin asked, noticing Bilbo’s watery eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Bilbo said. But his voice was hoarse and his eyes were puffy. The dwarf squinted at him, frowning. Bilbo shivered under his stare. He thought maybe the idea of touching him annoyed Dwalin. After all, he was small and hairless, surely not fit for dwarves’ tastes at all. “I think you know the reason why I’m here, Mister Dwalin,” he stated.

“That I know, Bilbo,” answered Dwalin, calling the hobbit by name. “And you can call me Dwalin. After all, we’re going to…”

“That’s exactly the thing I want to discuss, if you don’t mind,” interjected Bilbo. “Thorin can’t compel you to… I mean, if you do not want to…”

“What are you saying, burglar?” asked Dwalin. This time, the epithet sounded less friendly. The warrior body was suddenly tense, in a stiff posture.

“Well, we could avoid this whole issue, if we come to terms. Thorin doesn’t even need to know about it.”

“Would you do that, halfling?” Dwalin roared. “Would you dishonour your king, your beloved?” Bilbo chuckled, earning a feral look from the dwarf. Days ago he would have been so proud to be called Thorin’s beloved. Now the sole idea seemed silly and painful. “Thorin is my king, and he has granted me the greatest honour: _**Uharam**_ , offering you to me.”

“Listen to me now, dwarf, I’m not just a thing to be lent!” yelled Bilbo.

“I said no such thing. And what if it had been Bofur who saved Thorin? Would you be as aggravated then?” asked Dwalin heatedly.

Bilbo didn’t answer that. For a while, he said nothing. He just stared at the flustered dwarf, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Was Dwalin feeling insecure? And what about Bofur? Was that a hint of jealousy? Because of him?

Hesitant, Bilbo approached Dwalin. He stood on tiptoe and touched Dwalin’s cheek, fearing it would be too tender a touch for such a transaction. But he seemed to lean slightly on his hand, so Bilbo decided to begin his duty and brought his face closer to the dwarf’s.

Dwalin shifted abruptly before their lips touched, startling Bilbo. The hobbit was annoyed by that move, and at the same time close to tears again. He had thought he really didn’t want to bed Dwalin; but after the rejection, he reconsidered his feelings. Why did his hand suddenly feel empty? Why were his lips colder than only seconds before?

“It’s not…” Dwalin muttered. “Your mouth is just for the king.”

Bilbo chuckled at that, irritated. “But he doesn’t mind sharing the rest of my body,” he stated with bitterness.

“That’s his prerogative. It’s an honour that he… that he allows me to…” Dwalin couldn't finish his speech, because Bilbo, having had enough of royal privileges and duties for one night, had begun to undress slowly. Dwarves’ customs were different, and he didn’t want to begin an argument in that situation. He was there to please his lover’s saviour and that was what he was going to do.

Dwalin’s hungry stare encouraged Bilbo. Thorin had claimed him with passion, but he hadn’t looked at him the way Dwalin was. Bilbo felt special under his watchful eye, as if he was one of these jewels Thorin had described to him with a haunting gaze.

Nevertheless, when he was naked his courage left him. His normally pale skin was flushed on his face and chest. His hands were trembling; his fingers interlaced over his privates, trying to preserve his modesty. It was ironic, given the situation in which he was. But he could not meet Dwalin’s eyes anyway, so he stared at the ground until Dwalin lifted Bilbo’s chin and leant his head forward to join their foreheads. Then the dwarf grabbed the smaller hands and pulled both of them to take the hobbit to the enormous bed, where Bilbo sat trying to cover himself again with his hands, his big feet hanging off the mattress.

Dwalin smirked, but he didn’t touch Bilbo again. He undressed fast and carelessly. When he dropped his pants, Bilbo gasped. He knew of the dwarves’ and hobbit’s differences, but this was ridiculous; Dwalin’s was really huge! He had feared Thorin’s dwarfhood, and the King’s was thinner and shorter than that monster. _’Gorgeous monster’_ , thought Bilbo, appreciating the dimensions after the first impression. Dwalin’s large log wasn’t even erect, but his thick flesh was astonishing. With every step towards the bed, Dwalin’s member flogged heavily his thighs, and Bilbo could not avert his eyes from that rolling movement.

“Don’t be afraid, halfling,” Dwalin chuckled; he was used to that reaction. “I do know how to use my hammer.”

Thorin had also used that name for his log, so the hobbit could restrain his laugh. This time.

“I’m not afraid of you, dwarf,” Bilbo said. And it was true, to his astonishment. His curiosity and want were stronger than his apprehension. “I’m no virgin, if you must know. It’s just that… before tonight I hadn’t shared my bed with anyone in a long time,” he explained, blushing again. Dwalin caressed Bilbo’s red cheeks.  
The touch was so tender that Bilbo was drawn to kiss his fingers when he remembered the no-kiss rule. It reminded him that Dwalin was not his lover. Bilbo was just repaying Thorin’s debt of honour.

That night the hobbit was having a brutal range of emotions.

“Come on, burglar,” Dwalin said, noticing the change of mood. He knelt on the bed next to the hobbit. His erect cock was now resting on his left hip, just the side where Bilbo was. “You can touch it, if you want.”

Bilbo smiled shyly; he was a bundle of nerves, as he had been earlier with Thorin. But even if he was there just for the King, he wanted to please Dwalin in a way he hadn’t wanted with Thorin. This time he wasn't distracted by nervous worry that he live up to some romantic ideal; he just needed to enjoy what he could of the trial he had been forced to accept.

So the hobbit reached for that gorgeous staff. Its feel was so warm and throbbing that Bilbo moaned loudly. In spite of the Royal rule and even though he had lost practice in such matters, he was tempted to taste Dwalin’s most private flavour. Just his scent was excited Bilbo. It was obvious the dwarf had bathed for him, and that pleased deeply the picky hobbit. Bilbo could smell a faint musky aroma under the clean one, and that teased him too.

“May I touch you too?” Dwalin asked, his voice deep and rasping. Bilbo beamed and nodded without dropping the hot erection he was cradling in his hand. “Lay on the bed, on your back.” Bilbo tensed at the order. The tone was too like Thorin’s for his liking. Dwalin noticed the change when Bilbo quickly let his cock go. “Please.”

Wondering how that brute warrior could be kinder and more perceptive than a king, Bilbo obeyed. He blushed when he saw the wet spot he had left on the sheets, prove of his previous copulation. Dwalin saw it too and gasped with eagerness. “I want to mark you too,” he said possessively.

Bilbo spread his legs wantonly. “Do it. I’m yours for the night. I’m your reward; you can do whatever you want with me.” His eyes closed, embarrassed by his own boldness, Bilbo didn’t see Dwalin’s wide eyes, the dilated pupils showing the dwarf’s eagerness. “Quite the whore I have become,” Bilbo added bitterly and low, almost for himself.

“Don’t say that,” said Dwalin angrily. He cradled the hobbit’s face with his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “You’re a gift, a jewel. You’re _**Uharam**_.”

“You keep saying that but I don’t know the meaning of this word,” Bilbo said, trying to avoid his stare.

“The greatest honour a King could grant.”

Bilbo gaped, so flushed that even his neck was pink. Dwalin kissed the warm skin from his chin to his pointy ears. Bilbo moaned when he felt Dwalin’s tongue caressing the tip of his sensitive ear.

“I like the sounds you’re making, sweet little thing.” Bilbo couldn’t help but moan again. Thorin had been a quiet lover, but Bilbo had always had a weakness for dirty talk. “Will you whine for me if I touch you deeper?” Dwalin put one thick finger inside Bilbo, moaning in turn when the wet, flexible tissue almost sucked him in. He added another finger. “You’re still damp and oiled. Didn’t you wash before you came?”

Bilbo shook his head emphatically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I should have done it, in deference to you; but I was so bewildered by Thorin’s request…”

“I bet you were, sweet little hobbit,” Dwalin said. He added a third finger, although not without meeting some resistance. “Things aren’t done that way in the Shire, are they?”

“No, certainly not,” Bilbo answered. Dwalin’s comment upset him, a remind of his recent proper past. Oh, if someone in the Shire knew the things he was doing with a dwarf! And not just one of them!

Ashamed of his desire, Bilbo moved his legs, trying to dislodge Dwalin’s fingers. Noticing the hobbit’s discomfort, the dwarf removed his fingers carefully. When Bilbo was free, he crawled to the headboard and offered himself on all fours, hiding his flushed face against his shoulder. Dwalin’s groan just made him flush more.

With his eyes closed, Bilbo waited for these thick fingers to fill him, but there was no touch on his most private parts. Instead he felt a light pressure on his hips. With his fingertips Dwalin traced a line from his hips to his shoulders. Bilbo shivered. Then he felt first the caress of the dwarf’s facial hair, then a kiss on his shoulder blade. Something heavy and warm was poking Bilbo’s buttocks.

“Do you want it?” Dwalin asked, voice raspy with desire.

Bilbo didn’t answer because he didn’t truly understand the meaning of the question. Did he want to be buggered for a simple tradition? Did he want to be a bargaining chip? Or maybe: did he want to be filled with that gorgeous prick? Bilbo chose to focus on that last thought and moved his hips encouragingly.

The gesture was all Dwalin was waiting for. He kissed Bilbo’s nape twice and placed his hammer on the rim of that tiny, stretchable hole. Dwalin had the patience to push in unhurriedly, with little short pushes, but once he was entirely in, he could wait no longer to pound that small sweet bum.

Tears slid across Bilbo's face, but they were neither tears of pain nor shame. And Thorin was the last dwarf in his mind in that special moment. It was just that he felt so full, so owned… Even when Dwalin’s movements turned slow and contained, Bilbo could feel the tension in the way the dwarf grabbed his hips or in Dwalin’s deep panting against his back.

Suddenly the dwarf stilled, hips pressed against those round butt cheeks.

“By Mahal’s hammer,” Dwalin cursed once he caught his breath. “Sorry,” he said, holding the smaller body with care while he pulled out of the hobbit. Bilbo smiled at him, but Dwalin noticed his wet cheeks. Without saying a word, the dwarf cleaned his face and laid him on the bed beside himself. Bilbo’s erection subsided, and neither said anything about it. “I am going to keep you safe, my burglar. Don’t fear the wild; I’ll be there to fight and fend for you.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and smiled. It was not the way he had expected to spend the night, not apart from the person whom he longed. But for the first time on his adventure, he really felt safe. And it was not because he was in the Last Homely House; it was because he was in that particular bed, between these strong arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo was bewildered. He had saved the King’s life! He still didn’t know how he had gathered the courage to confront the pale Orc, but he had. For Thorin. Bilbo was the one who deserved a great honour for fighting for the King.

Nevertheless, Thorin granted the _**Uharam**_ to Dwalin once again, because Dwalin had saved Thorin when Thorin prevented Bilbo from falling off the cliff after the thunder battle. And Thorin said it with the same cruel tone of voice which he had scolded the hobbit that very night. He even dared to assign him the duty in front of Óin! The dwarf was treating Thorin’s wounds from the White Warg, and gave no indication of hearing the King’s words.

Bilbo had thought no one in the Company (other than Dwalin) knew about his _relationship_ with Thorin. The dwarf had never touched him in front of the others, and Bilbo had been careful to return to his own room every night they had spent together at Rivendell. Except the first night he was with Dwalin...

The issue was that Bilbo wouldn’t mind rewarding Dwalin for a second time. Those nights at Rivendell, in Thorin’s arms, Bilbo had thought often about the warrior: the kind touch of his big hands, the hungry look in his eyes.

But while he looked for Dwalin in Beorn’s gigantic house, he was not eager to please him at the moment. He was angry; he had been offended by the dwarf’s passivity when Thorin had said such unkind words to him in the Misty Mountains. It was ironic that the hobbit was more upset with Dwalin than with Thorin. After Thorin had led deceived him regarding the king's romantic intentions, Bilbo was beginning to forget why in Yavanna’s name he fell for Thorin in the first place. Despite being his lover the king had never been kind to him, and he couldn't forget the warrior who had promised that he would take care of him in the wild.

Bilbo couldn’t help but remember that big hand on his chest, protecting him from the stone giants, either.

“Dwalin?” Finally Bilbo found him in a small cubicle, trying to bathe himself with a little washbowl. “Oh, Dwalin, are you well?” he asked, seeing the nasty gashes on his back. All his irritation rapidly vanished. “You need to go see Óin.”

“I need not. I’m fine,” Dwalin said, grabbing an oversized cloth to dry his body off. It was obviously Beorn’s.

“You’re wounded,” insisted Bilbo worriedly.

“There’re just scratches. I’m a dwarf, I can cope,” Dwalin said sharply. He sat, his lap covered by the cloth. As Dwalin climbed onto the giant chair, Bilbo saw him flinch from the sore muscles that had resulted from the battle day's exertions.

“You’re in pain, Dwalin.”

“I’m not!” he yelled, squeezing the cloth in his fists. “Undress!”

Bilbo frowned at him, but he obeyed all the same, mumbling quietly to himself about balky dwarves. He was dirty and sore, and he didn’t want to argue with that stubborn dwarf in particular.

He was still disrobing when he noticed Dwalin’s hand moving in cadence beneath the cloth. Bilbo was bemused. He didn’t know how to feel about this new development. The notion of Dwalin touching himself while watching Bilbo was exciting, but the look in his eyes… Dwalin seemed unusually nervous and worried. Bilbo could imagine why, seeing that the cloth wasn’t tented over a hard shaft yet.  


The proud warrior couldn’t get hard, and Bilbo feared he knew why. Surely he was not disgusting to the dwarf? He had appeared to be enough to his liking at Rivendell! Bilbo felt so insecure, naked in front of him, thinking that Dwalin didn’t want him, but was there only for his King’s duty.

But as he approached Dwalin he saw a deep wound that was barely covered by the cloth on his hip. “By the Valar, that’s not a simple scratch!”

“I’ll go see Óin later, little bunny,” mocked Dwalin, emulating the Skin-Changer.

“Don’t even try to make fun of me to change the subject, dwarf. You’re still bleeding!” Bilbo yelled, getting closer to take a better look. Dwalin caught his smaller hand and kissed his fingers. But Bilbo was too worried to care for tender touches that he might have loved in another situation. “Is your honour or a royal award more important than your health?”

“I’m well, Bilbo. It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve had worst,” Dwalin said tenderly, Bilbo’s hands still in his.

“We could wait until Óin has treated you,” Bilbo insisted softly, his concerns subdued by Dwalin’s using his name. He was being honest with him. “We have time; Gandalf has said we won’t depart today.”

“We have no time. Thorin wants you tonight,” Dwalin chuckled, but the sound was not happy.

Bilbo frowned. If Thorin wanted to be with him, he shouldn’t have sent him to Dwalin. Standing between Dwalin's sturdy legs, Bilbo leant his head against the dwarf's trunk. He sighed deeply and nuzzled the thick chest hair. He wanted Dwalin; he wanted to pleasure him, and not just for some nonsensical dwarvish custom. And he wanted to cuddle him after, just as they had that first time at Rivendell. Just as Thorin never had.

Determined, Bilbo felt his way under the cloth, being careful not to graze Dwalin’s wound. He found the huge and soft flesh and cradled it with both hands. It was warm and throbbing, but it didn’t grow hard in his hands. Bilbo could felt the tautness in Dwalin’s body. He caressed the dwarf’s thigh, still holding him with his other hand.

Bilbo knew it was an awkward situation for the proud dwarf, even more so as he was trying to accomplish the _**Uharam**_. So the kind hobbit bent his head to Dwalin’s hammer, his knees thankful for the high chair. But before his lips reached their aim, strong hands detained him.

“ _ **Melhekh**_ ,” Dwalin muttered. Bilbo didn’t need translation, for he knew the meaning of King in khuzdûl.

“Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!” the hobbit yelled. He stood aside and kicked the air. “I also saved your King, did you know?” Dwalin nodded, a sweet smile in his lips. He didn’t dare say a word for fear of enraging the hobbit more. “Yes, I did!” Bilbo shrieked. He began to pace the small room. “One could say that my honour also deserves some dwarvish award!”

“And what do you think you deserve, Halfling? Or who?” Dwalin asked, outraged.

Bilbo ceased his wandering and approached Dwalin again. “A brave and gorgeous warrior would do,” he teased, poking the dwarf’s big nose. “Without restrictions,” Bilbo added, aiming for Dwalin’s lips, but the dwarf turned his face and the hobbit kissed his cheek.

“With limits,” Dwalin whispered into his ear. And seizing Bilbo’s face in his hands, he kissed tenderly both his cheeks, and his nose, and even his chin. But he didn’t kiss the hobbit’s pouting mouth.

Bilbo resigned himself and made the best of that agreement, kissing his way across the dwarf’s broad chest, until he arrived at Dwalin’s lap. His flesh was still not erect. Bilbo licked the head, looking up mischievously. The dwarf’s face was dazzled.

Bilbo had done this to Thorin just once at Rivendell. The King had looked majestically stunning while the hobbit sucked him, as if he had been born to be serviced. Bilbo didn’t repeat the act, for he had felt truly like a courtesan.

Dwalin’s reaction couldn’t have been more different. His eyes never left Bilbo, watching how he was licking and kissing him, as if he couldn’t believe it. His big hands caressed the hobbit’s hair with care and without holding him down.

Soon his flesh was hard enough to stand in Bilbo’s hand. But Bilbo didn’t end his attentions. He continued sucking that warm meat, enjoying how it grew inside his mouth. His tongue began to feel the taste of Dwalin’s excitement, and he liked that clean and personal flavour, pouring just for him.

“Are your wounds well?” Bilbo asked after hearing an especially deep groan.

“What wounds?” Dwalin asked in turn, panting through his smile.

It was Bilbo’s turn to chuckle at Dwalin’s attempt at humour. He carefully kissed around the open wound. “Do you have some oil?” he asked. Dwalin pointed a finger at his discarded garments. Bilbo grinned and looked for the small jar of oil. When he found it, he sat on the floor and begun to prepare himself without shame, under Dwalin’s wide eyes.

“May I help you with that?” Dwalin teased winking at the hobbit, which had three fingers already deep inside himself. “My fingers are bigger.”

“You can help me with another thing, one even larger,” jested Bilbo. “Come here; don’t think for a moment that I’m going to make love to you on that gigantic chair.” Just after have saying that, Bilbo blushed violently, noticing his slip of the tongue.

Dwalin took no time in to reach Bilbo, even with his many wounds. He swooped down to him and sweetly kissed his nose, joining their foreheads. “Where do you want my large thing?” Dwalin joked, trying to easy the situation. But his look was meaningful.

“Sit there, I don’t want Óin reprimanding me for having aggravated your wounds,” Bilbo said, pointing to one of the walls. When Dwalin obeyed him and sat against the wall, the hobbit straddled him. Dwalin moaned at the wetness over his thighs.

Grabbing the jar of oil, Bilbo kissed the point of the dwarf’s erection before coating it generously. Then he positioned himself with the help of two strong hands and lowered on that delicious pole of meat.

“You’re enjoyable,” Bilbo panted, moving so slowly. “You feel lovely inside me, Dwalin.”

“Bilbo,” Dwalin managed to pant, overwhelmed by pain, pleasure and dangerous feelings.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, still worried for his warrior. “Let me indulge you.”

Dwalin nodded, eyes tightly shut. Bilbo continued muttering nonsenses until his pace was balanced and faster.

Shortly after Dwalin grunted: “Slow down.”

“Shh… it’s fine, no rush, on your own haste,” said Bilbo, almost brushing against Dwalin’s lips. The forbidden notion excited him so that he moaned deeply, exhaling his breath directly into the dwarf’s mouth.

Bilbo expected a scold for his audacity, but Dwalin didn’t say a word. He was aware and contained, but his mouth was open as if it was at Bilbo’s disposal.

While he was slowly moving up and down, Bilbo tried to keep his lips close to Dwalin’s. They were sharing their breath, and it was the most erotic connection Bilbo had ever experienced. Dwalin was panting so violently that Bilbo feared for the wounds on his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to halt.

“Touch me, Dwalin,” Bilbo asked, throwing his demanding words into the dwarf’s mouth. “Do it; bring me to completion; mark me again; make me yours,” he continued, just to feel the faint scrap of Dwalin’s beard on his lips.

Dwalin slipped his hand between them to stroke Bilbo's erection. Bilbo was as close as he could be, grabbing Dwalin’s shoulders for balance while his hips moved furiously.

“I’m almost there,” Dwalin warned between pants.

Bilbo couldn’t even answer. Seeing the dwarf utterly undone was the critical point for him. He climaxed with Dwalin’s name on his mouth.

Dwalin shouted as he reached his own peak. He was shivering afterwards, overwhelmed by pleasure and the pain in his sore body.

Bilbo, barely any more recovered, tenderly kissed his mild chest wounds. Dwalin closed his eyes and let the hobbit fuss over him.

“You’re hard again,” Dwalin said with delight when he noticed something pocking on his belly while Bilbo was kissing the tattoos on his bald head.

“Hobbits have good appetites,” Bilbo answered as he nuzzled Dwalin’s big nose.

“Greedy creatures.”

“Now, you massive dwarf!”

The sound of the door opening interrupted Bilbo’s chastisement. Dwalin was fast covering Bilbo with the cloth he had used to dry himself.

“Quiet, my friend; it’s just me,” said Thorin. “Don’t worry; I’ve seen him in the nude before. Both of you, in fact.”

“You’ve never been funny, Thorin,” Dwalin said, still covering Bilbo. The King just could see his lover’s unruly hair. “You have seen the whole Company naked in the river. And we have shared baths at Erebor, after fight practice.”

“Of course,” Thorin answered, frowning in confusion for the unnecessary clarification.

Bilbo was still shrinking beneath the cloth, clinging to Dwalin’s chest. He was so ashamed that his face was flaming. The situation was humiliating for him; he was not comfortable with their customs yet. And he was enjoying Dwalin’s protectiveness. He couldn't help but wonder what would the warrior do if the dwarves’ roles would change. Would King Dwalin share him with his guard Thorin?

“Oh, I see, the fussy hobbit made you bathe,” Thorin said, looking at the washbowl. Bilbo embraced Dwalin even closer and didn't correct Thorin’s supposition. “Well, I'm clean now. Come with me, Burglar, it’s my turn to grant you a boon.” Bilbo almost chuckled, knowing well who was going to please whom that night. He silently kissed Dwalin’s chest. He had already enjoyed his reward.

“Let him get dressed first. You know he’s a proper thing,” Dwalin said. Both dwarves laughed at that, even as Dwalin caressed Bilbo’s hair in apology.

Thorin stared at the couple with a thoughtful face, but nodded and retired to the door.

“Bring Óin soon! Dwalin’s wounded,” exclaimed Bilbo, finally peeking out from under the cloth; face flushed and hair a mess.

“Halfling, I feared Dwalin had broken you,” Thorin joked. “I'll advise Óin. Are you well, brother?”

The sobriquet surprised Bilbo. He already knew about the dwarves’ concept of _brother in arms_ , but it was the first time he observed Thorin addressing anyone with that familiarity. Even his own nephews were formal with him, or at least as formal as that pair could be. Seeing King and Guard interacting, Bilbo understood a little more the _**Uharam**_.

“Just a scratch,” answered Dwalin. When Bilbo ogled he added: “On of them a bit deeper, but nothing to worry here.”

Thorin nodded again and left the cubicle.

Dwalin and Bilbo kissed a bit longer.

Bilbo didn’t kiss Thorin that night. He was afraid of getting Dwalin in trouble if the King noticed the other’s sex flavouring his mouth. Thorin did not kiss Bilbo of his own accord, so all was all right.

Later, before Bilbo went to his bedroll, the hobbit asked, “Thorin, the _**Uharam**_ is used for royal Consorts too? I mean, for the King’s spouses.”

“Certainly not!” Thorin stated. Noticing the stiffness in the hobbit’s body, he added, “I'm not going to marry, Bilbo. My heirs are my sister’s sons. There’s no reason for me to wed.”

Bilbo smiled bitterly. Thorin didn't even mention love.

He kissed the King’s hand and flew to his bedroll amongst the Company. He stared from afar at Dwalin’s dark bulk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Aida](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida) for the beta!!! I would have loved to update this for his Dwaggins week, but better late than never!

The Halls of Thranduil were astonishing, but after four days wandering around its majestic columns, Bilbo was already tired of Mirkwood and its people, even elves.

Bilbo barely ate, and the lack of sleep was beginning to trick his mind. Not to mention going around being invisible. And he was so nervous for Dwalin…

The Fundin brothers were precisely the only ones who the hobbit hadn’t found yet. Until that night, when he was returning from Thorin’s cell, in the deepest part of the realm.

“Dwalin!” he couldn’t help but cried softly, so happy to see the warrior alive. “It’s just me, Bilbo. I’m here.” he said, removing his magic ring of invisibility, at Dwalin’s befuddled face.

“My Burglar! you had me worried,” Dwalin said, putting his arms through the iron bars. Bilbo caught the dwarf’s hands and put them on his face.

“I’ve been looking for you since these elves separated all of you. I’ve found everybody but you and… Oh, Dwalin! Your brother!”

“I’m here too, laddie,” Balin said, pushing his huge brother to show his big nose through the door cell.

Bilbo let go Dwalin’s hands fast and took a step back. He was flushed, wondering how he hadn’t remembered that the elves had put two members of the Company in every cell. Except Thorin, who was alone in a more secluded prison cell. “Balin. I’m happy to see you too. Now that I know where everyone is, I can work on an escape plan.”

“Do you have one?” Balin asked.

“Not yet, I was busy looking for… the both of you,” Bilbo said.

“And how in Mahal’s name are you wandering the Elvenking Halls without being caught?” Dwalin asked.

“Because he seems to be invisible?” Balin stated. “Gandalf said that hobbits can pass unseen by most if they choose, but that my friend is a wonder!”

“Oh, Gandalf doesn’t… I…” Bilbo scratched his scalp and sighed. He was tired of explaining the same thing every time he had found a new member of the Company. “I have a magic ring I found in the Misty Mountains. It makes me invisible. That’s all.”

“How’s Thorin?” Dwalin asked, seeing how unsettled was Bilbo.

“He’s fine. He’s angry and dispirited, but other than that…”

“He’s his own self, then,” the warrior said. “And you?”

“Tired. Hungry. And I’m not going to say more, or you’re going to call me a whiner again.”

“I’ve not called you such thing. Come here,” Dwalin said, extending his hand. When Bilbo approached the iron bars, the dwarf held his hand.

“You have, when I complained about my handkerchief. I heard you.” Bilbo said, pouting. He blushed and looked down so he wouldn’t have to meet Balin’s eyes”.

“That was before… before,” Dwalin said. “Are you eating enough?”

“I’m stealing some things from the pantry, but I don’t want to be noticed, so I just take little morsels. Though Bofur shared his meal today.”

“Where are you sleeping? You have circles under your eyes,” Dwalin whispered that last part, tracing the bags with his thumb.

“Here and there. It’s difficult to sleep when you’re invisible; you’re too vulnerable. Someone could stumble on you,” he said, noticing how tired he was, now that he knew Dwalin was all right. Bilbo rested his head against the warrior‘s hand. He needed the protection the dwarf inspired him. Even with his brother nearby.

“You can rest here, laddie,” Balin offered. “It’s dangerous for you to be steadily alert; you could lower your guard and be caught. Dwalin, lend Bilbo your coat, we’ll take watch.”

“Thank you Balin,” Bilbo said sincerely. Bofur had made him the same offer, but the hobbit hadn’t wanted to cease his search for the rest of the company. Now that he knew where everybody was, he could rest at last. Especially knowing that Dwalin was safe.

Dwalin passed his coat through the bars and placed it on the floor, just beside the door. Bilbo took it off his ring and nestled on top of Dwalin’s furs, surrounded by his warrior’s safe scent. He was asleep in mere seconds, enjoying the caress of a big hand in his hair.

Balin stared at his brother with a thoughtful countenance.

Thorin was wet and out of breath, but he was glad they had fled from the blasted elves.

His Company was recovering from the barrel escape. Thorin watched how Fíli was helping his brother out of his boots. Ahead, Dori and Nori were fussing over a soaked Ori. All his dwarves were gathered with their families; grateful to be together and safe after many days of captivity. All but Balin, who was alone beside him, trying to dry his coat. 

Thorin looked around and found Dwalin holding Bilbo near to the riverbank. The hobbit was wheezing; after all he was the only one who hadn't had a barrel. Dwalin was tapping gently on Bilbo’s back, watching him as if he was he was precious and fragile. Thorin frowned.

“I think it’s time that we exchange a few words,” Balin said warily, nodding to a clearing in the nearby wood.

Thorin followed his old friend after looking back one last time; Bilbo’s head was now leaning against Dwalin’s chest, his small hands grabbing tightly at the warrior’s soaked tunic.

Bilbo was exhausted. The Company was celebrating with the men of Laketown, but he excused himself and went to the room they had assigned him. He was glad that Thorin hadn’t requested his company that night.

Unfortunately, he found a visitor in his room. “Oh, Balin. Can I help you?” Bilbo asked hesitantly. He supposed Balin would want to talk to him about his brother, for he had felt the dwarf’s eyes on him since Mirkwood.

“You can, laddie. In fact, only you can help me as a matter of fact. Thorin granted me the _**Uharam**_.”

Bilbo went pale. He had thought that Dwalin, being Thorin’s guard, was the only one who could hold such privilege. He couldn’t imagine a reason Balin merited it. When did he save Thorin’s life? Bilbo was staring at the dwarf in shock.

“I can’t,” Bilbo said without hesitation. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I hold your friendship in high esteem and I know you deserve the reward Thorin has honoured you with, but I…”

“Calm down, my friend, there’s no need for you to fret. I know hobbit’s and dwarves’ customs are very disparate and I wouldn’t want to damage our friendship.”

“But Balin, your honour…” Bilbo said worriedly.

“The grant of the _**Uharam**_ is enough recompense for my honour, my friend. It is my privilege to accept it or not, just like it’s the King’s privilege to grant it.” 

“Oh!” Bilbo exclaimed, remembering Dwalin had implied the importance of consummation for his honour.

“So we can ignore this inconvenient situation, Thorin doesn’t even need to know. Or… I could transfer the _**Uharam**_ to Dwalin.” Balin smiled at Bilbo’s wide-eyed face. “It’s an ancient tradition, the family shares honour so we can share the reward too,” he said, winking at the flushed hobbit.

“I would prefer that” Bilbo stated, so eagerly that he rapidly added: “I have no wish to offend you…” he muttered.

“Excuses are not needed, I understand. As a matter of fact…” Balin tapped the hobbit’s shoulder with a blissful smile. “…I’m so pleased to hear that, my dear friend.” The dwarf smiled at Bilbo looking knowingly at him. “I better go inform Dwalin, if you agree.” Bilbo just nodded, speechless.

Balin was still smiling when he left the room.

Although Bilbo was still stunned, he also beamed when he was alone at last. He was no longer tired.

Bilbo undressed quickly and got into bed, eager to be in Dwalin’s strong arms. He didn’t think about the relief he felt when Thorin didn’t request his company for the night.

Dwalin entered Bilbo’s room when nobody answered the door. He found the hobbit in bed; Bilbo seemed to have fallen asleep waiting for him, naked under the sheets.

The dwarf sat on the huge bed and caressed the curls scattered all over the pillow. Bilbo’s hair had grown since the start of the quest. And it wasn’t the only thing that changed in him; he had accomplished unexpected things for a hobbit.

Dwalin had changed too. He never would have left Thorin’s side at the Shire. And he had just let his brother convince him that Thorin would be fine without his guard, in a celebration full of unknown men. But he couldn’t stay at the party knowing that Bilbo could be in his arms.

“Mmm… Dwalin?” Bilbo looked at him with drowsy eyes and a beautiful smile.

“Aye, I’m here,” Dwalin said, caressing the hobbit’s face with his big fingers. Bilbo leaned against his hand, closing his eyes again. Dwalin continued his caresses with his other hand, across Bilbo’s neck and shoulder. The nude skin was flushing under his touch. Dwalin didn’t go below the sheets to verify if the hobbit wore any clothes at all, even if it was his desire. “Bilbo… Balin had said to me that you wanted to transfer his _**Uharam**_ to me.”

“He offered,” Bilbo answered quickly, his muscles suddenly tense under Dwalin’s hands.

“He said that much. I just want to know if I’m only a less bad choice,” Dwalin said. His hands were no longer on Bilbo’s; his fists were tightly clenched. “You don’t need to bed me again if you don’t want to,” he blurted out.

“I want,” Bilbo said with certainty. He sat on the bed. The sheet slid down to his lap showing his naked torso. Dwalin’s eyes didn’t avert from the hobbit’s ones. “I don’t want Balin. I don’t want to bed any other in the Company. I just want you. I don’t even want Thorin.” A sob escaped Bilbo after saying what his heart had assimilated before his mind. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide and tearful.

Even though Dwalin was thrilled by hearing these words, he couldn’t speak his mind without disrespect Thorin. Before loosing control and betraying his King, Dwalin stood and went to the door without saying a word.

“Balin said that consummating was not an indispensable requisite for the _**Uharam**_. You didn’t need to bed the halfling to honour your King!” Bilbo yelled heatedly.

Dwalin turned around when he was about to open the door. The proud hobbit was angry, his lips in a tight line. But his eyes were red and his cheeks wet. That’s why Dwalin had never had tiny pretty things; because he used to break them.

“I know,” Dwalin said, going back to the bed. “I just wanted to take the opportunity to…”

“Bed the hobbit,” Bilbo finished, his arms crossed.

“To be with you, just once. You’re the only one I would have chosen of all the Company. I’ve always have loved small beautiful things.” Dwalin chuckled. Bilbo hit his hand but the dwarf grabbed it and kept it between his.

“Not even Ori?” Bilbo asked shamefaced.

“Ori?” Dwalin repeated, confused.

“Well, he’s small too. And more handsome than me; I mean, he has facial hair. And you’re so kind to him…”

“My brother was his mentor at the Blue Mountains,” Dwalin said, not knowing why they were talking about Ori instead of kissing and touching.

“And his brother?” Bilbo inquired again.

“Dori?” Dwalin exclaimed, baffled. Balin would have his beard if he did as much as approach Dori.

“Nori. I saw the way you both fight. You work well together.”

Dwalin finally understood. Bilbo was jealous. Of him. He smirked. All the nights he couldn’t sleep at Rivendell thinking about Bilbo in Thorin’s arms…

“I was a guard at Ered Luin.”

“As you have said,” Bilbo stated sharply, misunderstanding Dwalin’s cunning smile.

“Nori was a thief. I know his tricks and he knows my weak spots, it’s just that.” Dwalin approached Bilbo, caressing his face again. He loved that smooth skin. “Eleven dwarves and I wanted to bed only you.” Dwalin kissed that hairless chin. “Why are we wasting time talking about the others when you’re naked?” Trying to confirm that, Dwalin’s hand got under the sheet and rubbed a round hip.

Bilbo chuckled but let Dwalin fondle him. He got closer and nuzzled the dwarf’s beard, until his lips were brushing Dwalin’s moustache.

“Halfling,” the dwarf warned, with a deep voice that made Bilbo laugh.

The hobbit didn’t know how alluring his mouth was to Dwalin. After their night together at Beorn’s, the thin lips had been haunting him. Every meal Dwalin’s eyes were fixed on that mouth that had engulfed him so eagerly, especially when the hobbit was licking his fingers clean of honey. Dwalin thought that Bilbo just wet his lips with his tongue so often to taunt him.

Wanting to erase that annoying smirk, Dwalin pulled down the sheet exposing Bilbo’s naked body. That just caused more giggles, while they were fighting for the possession of the sheet. Bilbo bumped Dwalin’s head with a pillow before being shoved onto the middle of the bed. Dwalin placed himself on top of Bilbo, having a care to not crush him.

“I caught you,” Dwalin said, panting.

“You caught me,” Bilbo repeated seductively, laying his hands over his head. “Kiss me,” he asked wantonly, pursing his lips.

“Bilbo…” Dwalin groaned. He closed his eyes but that enticing mouth was engraved in his mind.

“Thorin certainly doesn’t mind,” Bilbo whined, his foot caressing Dwalin’s leg.

The dwarf groaned. “Don’t hobbits have any traditions?”

“Of course we have traditions, many of them!” Bilbo exclaimed, exasperated. “Practices about sowing and picking; visitation protocol and even beliefs about fertility. But I don’t know the proper etiquette towards sharing a lover.”

“Not many dwarves know these traditions, either,” Dwalin said, chastised. “Just the few people closer to the royal family.” Bilbo nodded, placated at last. “If I’d must choose between being a King that has to share you, or being a warrior and having you only for me, I’d be a happy warrior,” Dwalin declared unhesitatingly. Bilbo seemed impassive, but Dwalin could see his eyes were glittering. He kissed them and tasted his salty tears. “Now, let me kiss you.”

The first time they had intercourse, Dwalin made a poor role. After a long time wanting Bilbo, Thorin’s unpredicted boon left him vulnerable to the hobbit’s many gifts, and he couldn’t show him his talent as a lover.

The second time, even when he tried to be strong for him, his wounds had limited his movements. He had been so embarrassed when his hammer had betrayed him… but then the hobbit had inflamed his fire with his skilful mouth and rode him better than he had done with his pony.

Dwalin wanted for this third time to be perfect. The mountain was nearby and Dwalin knew he couldn’t protect Bilbo anymore, not from a dragon. And even if everything would end well, there will be no happy ending, not for them. Not with Bilbo being the King’s paramour.

The hobbit’s nude body was an unexpected gift, lying in that big bed submitting only to him. Since he had been a toddler his big hands tended to destroy pretty little things, until his parents put them out of his reach. His clever and dexterous brother had all kinds of exquisite toys and trinkets, while Dwalin had to stick with stone axes or wood swords, admiring those stunning things from afar.

Bilbo was the most beautiful and delicate lover Dwalin ever had. Needless to say, he also was the smallest. Dwalin had enjoyed some warriors’ bodies in his life, but he had never had such pale and soft beauty. And he was going to relish Bilbo this time.

True to his word, Dwalin kissed the hobbit all over; his pretty face; his tender neck; and even a lot of out-of-the-way places like his armpits or his inner thighs. Bilbo was moaning loud his delight even though Dwalin’s lips didn’t touch him where the hobbit wanted, and the dwarf liked that music very much.

“You can’t kiss my lips, but there are other parts of my body that are just for your amusement,” Bilbo teased, moving his hips in a suggestive way.

Dwalin chuckled and bit the delicate flesh of Bilbo’s thigh. The smooth skin was so tender that Dwalin couldn’t control the strength of the bite. The dwarf licked the mark his teeth had left, trying to relieve the pain. One more time the warrior damaged his favourite thing…

“More…” Bilbo moaned, gripping Dwalin’s hair and pushing the dwarf’s head against his leg. “Hobbits are not as fragile as you think. If I can’t have your kisses on my mouth, I want the imprint of your teeth on my skin.”

Groaning, Dwalin grabbed the smaller body and turned him face down. If the hobbit wanted his bites, he was going to bite him on his most tender place. The dwarf grabbed both buttocks and scraped his teeth on that plump flesh, teasing Bilbo, who was squirming under him.

“Harder,” Bilbo demanded.

Dwalin obliged. He grabbed his hips tightly and bit without restraint. Bilbo moaned loud. The dwarf kissed the spot and wasted no time to bit him again nearer. And again. Bilbo’s buttock was soon red and swollen and Dwalin licked that flushed skin. Then he continued licking along his crack.

“D… Dwalin! What… are you doing?” Bilbo exclaimed.

“Kissing you,” Dwalin said evenly. And he continued lapping around the creased hole, putting his tongue as far as he could. Soon he was even more excited than the quivering hobbit. “Oil. Where do you have it?”

“I don’t have any,” Bilbo wept.

Dwalin slapped the hobbit’s buttock and stood, decided to find something to ease the way. He was still dressed, so he could go out if necessary. Because there was no way he wasn’t going to be inside Bilbo that night. Luckily he found a tiny vessel on the bedside table.

“Isn’t that oil?” Dwalin asked.

“That is not mine,” Bilbo answered, laying in the bed on his side now. “It was not there when I first entered the room, this afternoon.”

Dwalin opened the container and smelled it. Oil indeed. And he recognized that scent. Balin’s special ointment. How his brother managed to keep that after the disaster of the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood he didn’t know, but he was so thankful that didn’t mind the reason.

But then, he remembered why his brother had brought it to his hobbit’s room.

Dwalin grunted, suddenly jealous. As soon as he opened his trousers, he used the oil on himself and went to the bed, positioning himself between Bilbo’s legs.

“Aren’t you going to disrobe yourself?” Bilbo asked. “Dwalin! You’re sticking the sheets!” he whined, when the dwarf began to grease the hobbit’s hole carelessly.

“I don’t care about the sheets,” he snapped, concentrated in his pleasant task. He was eager to mark the hobbit again, wanting to forget that his brother had been about to use him. Ignoring Bilbo’s preferences about his clothes, he just lowered his pants and penetrated him, firm but carefully. “Are you well?” he asked, at Bilbo’s first squeal.

“No, I’m not well, if you must know! I’ve got a sore back, and my legs are not much better. Remember, Master Dwarf, that you had a barrel to ease your ride river down. My poor body had no protection against rocks and branches. So handle me with care or get out of my body!” Dwalin smiled and kissed that turned-up nose. He bore his weight on his hands and moved so slowly over the hobbit’s smaller body. “Mmm… much better. Now remove your shirt, I want to feel your ridiculously thick chest hair on me,” ordered Bilbo. He began to unbutton Dwalin’s shirt, and he caressed the strong muscles in the meanwhile.

“Bossy little thing,” Dwalin mocked. But he helped the hobbit to take off his shirt.

Bilbo admired the dwarf’s body with eyes and hands. He caressed his stout biceps, trying to memorize their feel. The hobbit raised his head and kissed the arm nearer to his, nuzzling against it.

Without ceasing the movement of his hips, Dwalin got closer and kissed Bilbo’s cheek. He then bit the hobbit’s right ear, smirking at Bilbo’s deep moan.

“Are you up for more?” Dwalin whispered in his ear.

“I think I’ll survive if you’re a bit more… fierce,” Bilbo teased.

Dwalin tried to hide his smirk in the crook of the hobbit’s neck, but Bilbo noticed it and slapped his hip, that was moving now more energetically.

Dwalin panted while kissing and licking Bilbo’s neck. He gave little bites to his jaw, marvelling at its lack of hair. He continued biting with care the tender skin of his cheek, never stopping the move of his hips. He bit the button nose.

“Don’t move at all,” Dwalin muttered, speaking against Bilbo’s mouth.

Then the dwarf bit the hobbit’s upper lip. He pulled a bit the delicate flesh between his teeth. Dwalin was breathing deeply through the nose, but Bilbo was holding his breath. In fact, his face was red and his eyes were closed.

“Are you well, Bilbo?” Dwalin asked, motionless. The hobbit just nodded, without opening his eyes. “I’m playing with fire here, little Burglar,” he whispered, lovingly kissing his cheek. “Speak to me.”

“I’m about to finish,” Bilbo said. He was blushing when he finally looked Dwalin in the eyes. “But please, bite me again.”

This time Dwalin caught the lower lip with his teeth. He began to move his hips once again, taking care of not hurting the hobbit’s mouth. Those tender hairless lips were driving him to distraction.

Suddenly, the hobbit’s body stilled, arching his back to press his needed cock against Dwalin’s pelvis. The next thing the dwarf felt was a warm wetness against his belly, while his own cock was being deliciously squeezed. With a deep grunt, he finished soon after.

When Dwalin caught his breath, he noticed another kind of wetness on his chest. He lifted up Bilbo’s chin with his big hand. The hobbit didn’t meet his eyes with his red ones.

“Can you spend the night with me?” Bilbo asked unusually shy. “I mean, has Thorin told you something about…?”

“I’ll stay,” Dwalin stated plainly. He then cleaned the both of them with his own shirt. Bilbo yelled and scolded him, but the hobbit couldn’t help but smile.

Dwalin lied in the bed with Bilbo in his arms and hid his own smile on the hobbit curly hair. The dwarf just had wanted to amuse the proper hobbit. He liked more the sound of his laugh than his tears; even though he loved the salty taste of his cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

“Dwalin,” Bilbo whispered. “Dwalin!” he repeated, trying to get the dwarf’s attention away from the treasure.

It was a hard thing to do. Fíli and Kíli were the less affected by all that gold, but the others were enthralled by it. And Thorin was the worst.

“Little Burglar,” Dwalin said, noticing Bilbo at last. The dwarf embraced him, but his look was lifeless. “I have a thing for you,” he said, kneeling at the hobbit’s feet, on a pile of gold coins. He took out a golden chain from one of his pockets and placed it on Bilbo’s neck. From the necklace it hung a big dark gemstone. “It looks perfect on you.”

Bilbo was astonished. Dwalin hadn’t spoken to him for days, and now he was gifting him part of his share and he was looking at him like he was Aulë himself. They were far away from Thorin and the others, but Bilbo was uncomfortable. Dwalin hadn’t touched him before, apart from the times that the _**Uharam**_ granted him Thorin’s acquiescence. And now the dwarf was placing jewels on him, admiring its reflect on his skin as a lover would do.

“Dwalin, I fear for Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, looking around nervously. “He’s not well. He doesn’t talk; he barely eats; he didn’t even ask for my… company anymore. Since Beorn’s he hasn’t touched me.”

“Do you want him?” Dwalin asked sharply.

“No! No, I’m relieved for his lack of interest,” he confessed, surprised at Dwalin’s sincerity. The dwarf usually wanted to ignore that particular matter. “But I’m worried the same. In fact, I worry about all the company. Fíli and Kíli have played the fiddle for a while, but the rest of you just want to look for that… stone. And men and elves are at the door…”

“Their claims are unfair!” Dwalin yelled angrily.

“I know, I know,” Bilbo said trying to calm him. He didn’t want to draw the attention of the others. “But, Dwalin… searching for the Arkenstone is a waste of time.”

Dwalin stood up suddenly, looking at Bilbo with rage. “Why did you say that? Do you know where it is?” he demanded, shaking the hobbit’s shoulders.

“Dwalin…” Bilbo muttered in fear. His Dwalin had never treated him so harsh; he seemed to be in warrior mode.

But then, Bilbo remembered the kindness of those huge hands, the tenderness of his kisses. He thought about all the times the big warrior had saved him. After a deep breath, Bilbo took out the Arkenstone from his coat.

“You thief!” Dwalin shouted at him. In no time, he had one of his axes on Bilbo’s neck. “You wanted to steal it from the King!” he roared.

There was a single tear sliding on Bilbo’s cheek. He was not afraid, but he was heartbroken. He just opened his hand and the Arkenstone fell onto the coins.

Dwalin let go of him slowly, noticing the hobbit’s wet face. “Bilbo,” he whispered, as if he was just waking up from a nightmare.

Bilbo met his eyes just a second before putting his ring and disappearing.

“Bilbo!” Dwalin screamed. His axe fell onto the floor with a metallic sound. Then Dwalin fell on his knees.

Balin found his brother some time later, still kneeling on a pile of coins, his axe carelessly on the floor. Balin noticed the brilliant stone at his feet. He took a step and covered the shining of the Arkenstone with his tunic.

“You have found it. I suppose Thorin still doesn’t know,” Balin said. But there was no happiness in his voice. “Are you well, brother?” he asked, when Dwalin didn’t answer him.

“You also think there’s something bad with Thorin.”

“Also?”

“Bilbo. He was the one who found the Arkenstone. He told me he feared Thorin, and I didn’t pay attention to him. On the contrary I…” Dwalin stood up and moved away from his axe, glaring at it.

“What did you do, brother?” Balin asked, worriedly.

“I threatened him by putting _Grasper_ on his neck. I blamed him for wanting to rob Thorin. He put that strange ring on and disappeared. He was crying, brother. I failed him. I almost…”

“You’re not the only one affected by the gold. He’s a smart hobbit; he knows you were not in your right mind. Now let’s deal with something tricky.” Balin bent down and took the Arkenstone. “Let me speak to Thorin. You just… stay behind in case… just stay behind.”

The dwarves of the company were restless. They were getting ready for to fight next day.

Thorin was in high spirits, the Arkenstone shining on his chest. He was waiting for Dáin’s arrival, to confront men and elves in battle against Balin advice.

Dwalin was unusually quiet, not even cleaning his weapons. In fact, there was only one axe on his back. He was sitting on the treasure Hall, attentively looking around. He hadn’t seen Bilbo since their earlier confrontation, but he could swear some coins were moving on its own, here and there.

“Look what I found,” Nori said, balancing _Grasper_ in front of him. “Such a fine axe. And Thorin said that we could keep any weapon that we choose.”

“You can keep it, if you want it,” Dwalin answered. He knew the thief was trying to irritate him, but he had his head somewhere else. And that axe reminded him of its sharp edge on the hobbit’s neck… 

Dwalin regretted having attacked Bilbo, but the thing that worried him more was that Bilbo was invisible. And if the dwarf didn’t know where the hobbit was, Dwalin couldn’t protect him next day at the battle, the same way he hadn’t protected him from Thorin’s cruel words.

When Balin had showed Thorin the Arkenstone, the King was so pleased that he made no questions. But when later nobody found the hobbit, Thorin reached the conclusion that Bilbo had betrayed them.

When the King called Bilbo things like: _“miserable hobbit”; “undersized burglar”_ or; _“descendant of rats”_ , Dwalin saw some coins rolling down in a place where there was nobody.

So Dwalin went through the mountain looking for Bilbo, daring even calling his name when he was frantic with worry. But the night arrived and there was no sign of the hobbit.

At bedtime, Dwalin saw _Grasper_ on the floor, close to his bedroll. For a moment he thought Nori had put it there, but the thief would never made things so simple. His heartbeat sped up when Balin looked at him with a knowing smile.

Dwalin lied on his bedroll and stayed still, attending to any sounds around him. He didn’t hear anything until he felt a pressure on his shoulder.

“Bilbo…” he said, wanting to apologise.

“Sssh…” Dwalin felt a breath against his lips; his hobbit’s breathe.

Thorin had said that he never wanted to meet Bilbo again, so Dwalin felt free to raise his head and join his lips with the hobbit’s. 

Bilbo gasped.

Balin cleared his throat and went to his own bedroll, concealing the couple from the company’s eyes. Before lying down, he winked to his brother.

Smirking, Dwalin thought how ridiculous he must seem kissing air. He turned around and placed the hobbit between him and the wall.

“I would love to see you,” Dwalin whispered. “But I’ll resign myself to the fine touch of your lips.”

Bilbo smiled against his beard. He nuzzled that thick hair, enjoying the closeness and the safely feeling he’d been missing all day.

Groping for Bilbo’s face, Dwalin found his lips once again and worshipped them, having dreamed of their feel for weeks. When the dwarf knew those delicate lips to his heart content, he requested entrance with his tongue, wanting to taste the hobbit’s mouth at last.

Their kisses grew frenzied. Dwalin could only focus on the sweet taste of Bilbo’s tongue, and Bilbo just wanted to own that mouth that he had been denied for so long.

“Slow down, or I’ll have to explain to Thorin that I’m the real traitor,” Dwalin said. He still felt guilty about kissing his King’s lover.

“Don’t worry about Thorin. He only has eyes for that shining rock,” Bilbo answered with a harsh tone of voice.

“Please, don’t go fight tomorrow. If something bad would happen… I would be lost without you…” Dwalin confessed, stirred for their frantic kisses and the battle prospect.

Bilbo didn’t answer, and as Dwalin couldn’t see his face, he didn’t know if the hobbit was going to follow his wish.

They kissed for hours, too anxious about the nearby battle to sleep. Sometimes they just shared their breaths, lips barely grazing. Other times their moans were so loud that they disrupted Balin’s snoring.

Finally, Bilbo got to sleep with his head on Dwalin’s shoulder. If there had been someone awake, he would have seen the big dwarf’s hand caressing the air over his chest.

Bilbo entered the King’s tent not knowing what to expect.

He had fought at Dwalin’s side, protecting the King’s and his nephew’s lives. He had some scratches to prove it, even a superficial minor sword wound on his left arm. But at the moment he had been wearing the ring, so Bilbo didn’t know if someone made Thorin aware of his role in the battle.

“Come here, little burglar,” Thorin said from his bunk. He had a white bandage covering his ear, and his right arm was in a sling.

“Am I not _undersized_ anymore?” Bilbo asked bitterly.

The King breathed deeply before answer: “I would like to ask you forgiveness for all my past faults, but I don't remember half of it. Will you forgive me anyway?” Thorin said, reaching his hand in clear invitation. Bilbo approached the King’s bed but didn’t take his hand. Chuckling at Thorin’s puppy eyes, the hobbit rearranged Thorin’s beautiful hair under the bandage. “Gandalf told me you want to depart to the Shire.” Bilbo nodded. “Don’t go so soon, please.”

Bilbo was astonished, not only for the request, but also because Thorin was begging him.

“Thorin… I…” Bilbo stuttered. He didn’t want to disrespect the King under the Mountain, but he couldn’t stay in Erebor anymore. Not with Thorin, at least.

“Bilbo,” the King interrupted him. “I know I’ve lost my lover. Please, don’t make me lose my best friend too.” Bilbo stared at Thorin gobsmacked, thinking the dwarf was talking about him. Thorin smirked and added; “Besides, he’s also my head guard.” Bilbo blushed intensely.

“Dwalin just wants to escort me to the Shire. But he’ll come back to Erebor. He would never abandon his King,” Bilbo said, trying to stay calm.

“He would never have done that in the past. But then, I’ve never have seen him to fall in love with anyone.”

“In love?” Bilbo asked in a small voice.

The King tenderly caressed his smooth cheek.

“I’m not blind, Bilbo. I can see it in your eyes too.” Thorin chucked. “Do you remember our first night, at Rivendell?” Bilbo nodded, wistfully. “When I sent you to Dwalin I was expecting you to return to me in a few minutes. In all these years Dwalin has been protecting me, not once has he accepted the _**Uharam**_. I was so jealous the next day… but he had every right to exercise the award I granted him, so I remained silent.”

“Then… why did you offer it again at Beorn’s?” Bilbo asked, astonished.

“He had fought bravely, at the risk of his own life. The bastard even made me aware that he had been wounded trying to ease my fall inside the Misty Mountains. What else could I do?” Thorin smiled sadly. “It seemed he was sixty all again. If you had seen his face when I told him that I granted Balin the _**Uharam**_ … I thought he was about to take _Grasper_ and _Keeper_ and break down the door. Luckily his brother arrived on time and sent him to you.”

“You know about Laketown…” Bilbo whispered, blushing again.

“Of course I know. Balin didn’t even deserve the _**Uharam**_ , the elvish friend! But he knew Dwalin wouldn’t act on his feelings without a little push.”

“And you agreed?” Bilbo asked, bewildered.

“Dwalin’s not only my guard, Bilbo. He’s also my cousin and my best friend. Since I lost Frerin, he had become my brother too. I want his happiness even at the expense of mine. And I know what a jewel I’ve lost…” Thorin said, taking fondly the hobbit’s hand between his. “But it’s the first time Dwalin has showed interest in someone.”

“I loved you, Thorin,” Bilbo confessed. “That first night you kissed me was a dream. But at Rivendell… I thought you loved me too. Hobbits don’t take lovers; it’s just not done in the Shire…”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Thorin asked, noticing Bilbo’s discomfort.

“It was just a misunderstanding. I was ashamed, and I felt a bit silly too. I’d been thrown out by a King!” Bilbo smiled self-deprecatingly. Thorin squeezed the hobbit’s hand, which still was between his. “But I felt adventurous, too. I wanted to show you that I could bed another.”

“And the fact that you were attracted to Dwalin didn’t motivate your decision,” Thorin said sarcastically. Bilbo smirked and put his other hand on top of Thorin’s.

“Well, he was so kind with me, from the beginning. And he’s gorgeous, a sturdy warrior with impressive tattoos and a…”

“Yes, yes, I know my cousin praises. But I’m also a warrior, you know? I’ll have soon an awful lot of dwarves begging me to take them as lovers,” Thorin declared, trying to not laugh.

“And you’re a King. You also can find someone,” Bilbo said sincerely.

“Yes, that’s important too. But my heart is too old and too damaged, Bilbo. I’m going to miss you so much. You do calm me… but I bet Dwalin will not allow intimacy between us.”

“You’re talking as if I’m going to stay at Erebor.”

“Are you not? Believe me, Dwalin’s not one to enjoy the peaceful life in the Shire. He’ll be bored soon, even with your tender caring.”

“And what makes you think that I’ll be happy in the Lonely Mountain? Or my opinion doesn’t matter?”

“Your happiness is up to Dwalin now. And I know he’ll take the task seriously.” Thorin kissed Bilbo’s cheek. “But I’ll try to contribute in my small way. Would you like the sunlight to bathe your rooms?”

“The sun? Inside the mountain? Is that even possible?” Bilbo asked, conceding his settling.

Thorin laughed happily, having achieving his purpose.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Dwalin said, entering the tent. He stopped all of a sudden when he noticed Bilbo and Thorin were holding hands.

Bilbo tried to disentangle himself from Thorin, but the King held him tighter.

“Dwalin! I feel better indeed. Not a difficult thing, with such a good company.” He raised his hands, showing he was holding Bilbo’s one, as if Dwalin hadn’t had his eyes fixed to that point since he went into the tent. “Did you know Bilbo’s going to stay at Erebor? We were talking about his rooms. I think I’m going to give him a special room, one in the upper levels, with a balcony. That would please a hobbit, doesn’t it?” Dwalin didn’t answer. He was closing his lips tight. “I'll make it my wedding gift.”

“Wedding? Who’s getting married?” Dwalin asked; his face all red and angry.

“Oh, confusticate these dwarves!” Bilbo exclaimed, freeing himself from Thorin and approaching Dwalin. “I’m only going to stay if you do want me here.”

“Me?” Dwalin asked, stunned.

“Come on, brother, marry him. You’re the honest type of dwarf,” Thorin stirred him.

“Not your kind of dwarf, that for sure!” Dwalin joked, now calmer. He then met Bilbo’s eyes and smiled lovingly. The dwarf embraced the hobbit and kissed him deeply.

“This is not your first kiss.” Thorin stated meditatively, glaring at them. Dwalin coughed and Bilbo blushed, but they didn’t let go their hands. “Now go away before you make me sick. You both are disgusting!” he yelled. But he was smiling.

Dwalin almost carried Bilbo out of the tent. He didn’t wait to be alone to kiss the hobbit again.

The members of the Company, who were waiting for Thorin’s health news, whistled and shouted around them, especially Fíli and Kíli, who knew about Mister Dwalin’s love for the hobbit before Dwalin knew himself.

Balin clapped enthusiastically, pleased for Bilbo and proud of his brother.


End file.
